


If You Forget Me

by themillersson



Category: Glee
Genre: AU, Dark, Infidelity, M/M, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-31
Updated: 2011-08-31
Packaged: 2017-10-23 07:30:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/247743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themillersson/pseuds/themillersson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU from the Pilot - Will never came back to McKinley. A year passes, and things happen. (Hookerfic)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by theanonymousbeta, with encouragement and help from _harmlessthings.
> 
> Title and quotes taken from Pablo Neruda's "Si Tu Me Olvidas."

Kurt recognized his john the second he came into view, distant streetlights casting unidirectional shadows across the man’s face before he fully rounded the corner and slipped into the alley’s gloom. Kurt hadn’t seen him in a year, but William Schuester’s curly hair and earnest nice-guy features were unforgettable, even if his face seemed tired and worn in the dim light.

Months ago, Kurt had carefully chosen this alley, really just a gap between the back of a dive bar and a defunct movie theater awaiting a new patron or demolition – since it was Lima, Kurt’s bet was on the latter. The alley was one of the town’s few places that were both centrally located and hemmed in by buildings on all sides rather than open to fields or someone’s backyard. Despite the claustrophobic seediness, it was also near enough to the street that he could escape without too much trouble if it came to that (he might have been turning tricks on the streets of Nowhere, Ohio before graduating high school, but he wasn’t _stupid_ ). He had decided it was too risky to go to any of their houses and his own was off limits, but all of the men looking for a good time knew where this place was and could meet up with him as anonymously as they wanted, slipping into the bar through the back door and leaving with a ready excuse for their wives – the stink of cheap alcohol easily masked the smell of sex that clung to them after.

He wasn’t exactly surprised that Mr. Schue – _Will_ , he supposed under these circumstances – would respond to his ad (well-written and discreet, thank you, unlike those by most of Allen County’s grammatically-challenged rentboys). He had seen the way the teacher looked at Finn Hudson during his short stint as Glee club director, even if Finn hadn’t noticed. Granted, Finn didn’t notice much of anything, really, not even that the baby he cried over after his girlfriend had given it up for adoption months ago had Noah Puckerman’s eyes. Kurt had almost pointed this out to him at the time in hopes of getting him to finally break up with Quinn, but the two had grown even more disgustingly attached to each other after she was no longer pregnant and Kurt’s crush on him had diminished over the year anyway. Hell, even Rachel Berry had given up after a few months, but that might have been mostly due to Finn quitting the Glee club in favor of a job to support Quinn while she carried his best friend’s spawn. The resulting meltdown had been the death knell for the rag-tag club, and Kurt knew that Rachel had never forgiven Finn for destroying her delusional hopes for high school stardom. Personally, Kurt had found all the yelling rather cathartic, especially after - no, he reminded himself, that wasn’t important.

Kurt had known better than to expect him to stay, but he had to admit that maybe he’d felt a pang of disappointment all the same as first their teacher, then their potential savior left (Finn had apparently learned Will’s lesson about being a grown-up well). It didn’t matter, though. Socially, things weren’t any worse after the club disintegrated than they’d been for the years leading up to it and if life had thrown some extra complications at him lately, then, well, it was nothing he couldn’t deal with himself. And that brought Kurt back full circle to the man approaching him through the alley.

Will didn’t show any sign of recognizing Kurt, which was just as well. He’d only been in one of the teacher’s classes and Spanish was never Kurt’s favorite subject, so he’d always stayed in the back and read magazines under the desk. He would have been annoyed if Will had noticed he was there. Still, Kurt nearly curled his lip at the fact that Will didn’t even remember him from Glee. After all, there had only been six students and Kurt liked to think that he was, if nothing else, distinctive enough to warrant remembering under those circumstances. The fact that it had only been a handful of rehearsals a year ago stopped him, though.

So did the fact that, more importantly, he was getting paid for having sex with Will, not pissing him off.

With that in mind, he pushed away everything but the alley around them, the smell of stale alcohol in the air, and the buzzing of a neon sign about to go out somewhere nearby. He flashed Will a professional smile, teeth flashing white in the gloom. “Hey, handsome,” he purred, heroically managing not to roll his eyes at his own standard opening line. He knew he could do better, but he wasn’t willing to expend too much energy scripting something new before he knew whether it would be appreciated. “You should have mentioned you were hot when we talked; I would have dressed up for the occasion.”

He rested a hand on a provocatively cocked hip and allowed Will’s eyes to rake over him through the dim light – cutoff jean shorts that hugged (and nearly exposed) his ass, a skintight wifebeater that showed pale in the dark, no designer labels or complicated fastenings for this – feeling a brief flare of nervousness that he’d be recognized under the scrutiny. He hoped not. One of the things he remembered about William Schuester during his (rare) late-night ‘what if’ sessions was that the man had been obsessed with the welfare of some of his students. Kurt didn’t think he made that list, but right now would be an awful moment to learn otherwise. Thankfully, Will’s eyes lingered on his body and only briefly flicked up to his face.

Will gave his head a little shake as if to chase off a stray thought and paced closer until he was squarely in Kurt’s personal space, breath hitting his face hot and beer-scented. His voice was more gravelly than Kurt remembered, harsher. Less melodic. “Cut the lines,” he said wearily. “Just -” his mouth twisted and he gestured vaguely downwards. Kurt suspected that if he wasn’t obscured by shadows, he’d see a flush of embarrassment deepening that of the alcohol.

Kurt shrugged unconcernedly and dropped to his knees, wincing and shifting away from the pebbles in the cement before he went back to his work. He batted away Will’s hands from where they were fumbling with his suit trousers’ zipper – some department store brand, not cheap but not really tasteful, either. He couldn’t tell the color with the light, but it certainly wasn’t anything as creative or buoyant as the boyish sweater vests and ties he remembered.

Something flashed in his mind, the implied broken promise of singing to an empty auditorium a year ago, and couldn’t resist dropping a brief mocking kiss on the gold band on Will’s ring finger. Will tensed up at the subtle contact. Kurt smirked cruelly, the twist of lips hidden by his bowed head, and continued on smoothly, popping the button and then grabbing the zipper between his teeth, sliding it down with the ease of practice.

“Mhm, impressive,” he pretended to moan when he’d freed Will’s dick from his boxers (which had _music notes_ on them – could the man be any more obvious?). It was only half hard, but he followed the script like always. Kurt took it in his hand and began a steady rhythm of stroking it to hardness, leaning in to press a teasing kiss against the head as it swelled and lifted under his palm. He looked up at Will from under his lashes and let his tongue peek out and lick his lips delicately. “You’ve got a great cock,” he whispered high and breathy, using what he privately called his Marilyn Monroe impression. Most men seemed to get off on his voice. He was happy to play it up for them accordingly, murmuring dirty praises before, during, and after, pretending breathless admiration. “God, it’s perfect. I can’t wait to taste it, feel it sliding all the way back to my-“

“Stop it,” Will sighed, cutting him off brusquely, a hand going up to run wearily through curly hair. “Just – stop. I’m not paying you to talk. If I wanted that I’d have stayed at home.” The last part sounded like it slipped out accidentally, as Will’s brow furrowed immediately after and a guilty look crossed his face. Kurt didn’t get a chance to ponder it further as a hand quickly reached down to cup the back of his head and jerked him forward until the head of Will’s dick pressed insistently against his barely-parted lips. His gaze flicked upwards at the movement despite the familiar pressure. Even from his uncomfortable angle, he could see Will’s jaw tighten, his expression sliding from guilt to something dark and unhappy and vaguely desperate.

All the same, he wouldn’t have pegged Will as the type for rough sex until the man’s cock nearly gagged him the second he opened his mouth, Will’s hips thrusting forward too fast and his hands pulling Kurt closer until his mouth was totally filled. Kurt let Will continue to push forward, relaxing his throat and letting his jaw go slack, not wanting to accidentally choke or sputter when the tip bumped against the back of his throat. He did his best to bring his lips and tongue into play once Will pulled back so far that just the head was between his lips, lapping lightly at what he could reach, swirling the tip of his tongue around the slit, but the next erratic, deep thrusts into his mouth made it difficult to employ any of his skill. He closed his eyes and concentrated on tightening his lips around the shaft instead and sucking, breathing through his nose and trying to be an active participant rather than the blow-up doll Will clearly needed to get if he was just interested in face-fucking him like his dick would shrivel if he didn’t go fast enough.

He bit back his mounting annoyance as the hard flesh pumped in and out of his mouth regardless of his attempts to pleasure the man. When the tang of salt and musk became stronger, a rush of pre-come lubricating the slide between his lips, Kurt almost felt relieved. He’d get paid less if it turned out that Will had an early arrival problem and came in his mouth in the next minute, but it was beginning to sound like a fair trade-off. He understood that some men were as interested in letting out their frustration on a target that wouldn’t fight back as they were in sexual gratification, but that didn’t mean he had to enjoy it when ‘nice guys’ took out their repressed issues on him. Judging by the hand tangled harshly in his hair and the force with which he was repeatedly pushed down onto Will’s erection, Will in particular had a lot of issues to work through.

Before Kurt could bring him off, though, and just spit out the come, get his fee, and leave, Will abruptly pulled him off of his cock with a wet sound. Breathing hard and grimacing, Will tugged him to his feet. Kurt’s hands automatically closed around Will’s wrist so that his hair wouldn’t be yanked uncomfortably in the process, but he stood without protest. He wasn’t particularly anticipating the next part, given Will’s ignorance of how to make things comfortable so far, but he wasn’t about to refuse the higher fare. Will didn’t seem to notice or care about the reproachful look sent his way as he released his grip on Kurt’s hair, leaving it mussed and ruffled. “Turn around and face the wall,” Will ordered, his voice rough with arousal.

Kurt complied and stood facing the brick wall of the bar, catching his breath and holding back the urge to clear his throat. The back door was only about twenty feet away, light streaming through the window to make a jagged shape on the ground, but he wasn’t especially worried about anyone coming out. The bar’s few employees would be busy inside with the small but raucous happy hour crowd, which broke out in periodic bursts of noise that could be heard even in the alley. He could also hear Will’s breath coming raggedly as the man moved to stand behind him, so he slid his hand into his pocket to retrieve a few items, which he wordlessly passed to Will.

As Will fumbled the condom on and lubed himself up, Kurt undid his shorts and hooked his fingers into the belt loops. He considered making a show of it like he normally did, stripping them off slowly to reveal that he wasn’t wearing anything beneath, but a glance over his shoulder showed that Will was getting impatient. He hid a grimace and moved quickly. Under Will’s narrowing eyes, he unceremoniously wriggled the tight denim down off his hips until he could drop the shorts to the ground and kick them to the side. He’d lament the poor treatment of the garment later, but there was a reason he’d learned not to wear clothes he really liked for these meetings.

One of Will’s hands settled on Kurt’s hip and he leaned his upper body forward so he could brace himself with his hands flat on the brick, curling his fingers into the gaps where the mortar was beginning to crumble. A lubed finger traced almost gently down the cleft of his ass until it hovered over his entrance. Kurt stared ahead at the wall and exhaled, made himself relax. The finger pushed inside easily, withdrew, was joined by another and then another. Kurt sighed at the intrusion and hoped it sounded adequately like the noise of pleasure he intended.

Will hissed behind him and the hand on Kurt’s hip tightened. “Prepared yourself already?” he said, slurring almost unnoticeably. The fingers kept moving inside him, scissoring and twisting easily.

Kurt couldn’t tell if the heat in Will’s voice was from approval or disapproval, so he replied as neutrally as he could, “I didn’t want to make you do all the work.” Normally, he knew exactly what to say, what fantasy to evoke, how to best play someone. Will was throwing him off. There was too much familiarity to make a first impression, too much time in the interim to take advantage of that knowledge. He frowned, drew himself back to the moment. The bricks ahead of him were almost all cracked, their texture rough under his hands, and there was still an insistent pressure as the fingers moved restlessly in his ass.

Will went silent and the fingers stretching him withdrew, replaced by a larger, blunt pressure as the hand that had been in him landed heavily on his hip, drawing him back towards Will. He went with it, only briefly closing his eyes at the familiar burn of penetration, the push-slide of the lubricated cock stretching his insides. Kurt exhaled shakily, pushed back until Will was fully sheathed in him, the scratchy fabric of Will’s open trousers rubbing against his ass. The fingers clenched around his hips were squeezing too tight, and he just knew he was going to get bruises overlapping the sets already there.

Will made quiet gasping sounds as he bottomed out and just stayed there for a second before slowly pulling back out most of the way. Kurt hissed at the movement and concentrated on the faint pleasure rather than the discomfort. The snap of Will’s hips as he roughly pushed back in came sooner than Kurt expected, but he did his best to lean back into it despite the hands trying to hold him stationary. He allowed himself to moan quietly at the movement but didn’t try to play it up this time; Will didn’t seem especially concerned with whether he was enjoying it or not. Will gradually picked up a punishing rhythm as even his breathing came quicker and harsher, slamming into him so roughly that he had to lean his forearms on the wall to brace himself against the thrusts pitching him forwards.

 _One, two_... He tuned out the sound of Will’s quiet grunts of effort, counting all the bricks he could see rather than focusing on his former teacher fucking him. _Twelve, thirteen_ \- Will made a tiny displeased sound and Kurt automatically shifted to spread his legs wider, allowing him better access.

He’d counted seventy-two when Will’s rhythm started to falter, strokes coming uneven and hard enough that he couldn’t think anymore, the hands on his hips pulling ruthlessly so that Will plunged deeper into him each time, propelling him against the wall until his forearms started to rub raw. One particular thrust finally brushed something inside Kurt and he gasped and squirmed slightly until the next one came even rougher and made him hiss in discomfort instead.  ‘ _Someone_ has no idea what he’s doing,’ Kurt thought vindictively, a sudden clear thought through the haze.

Finally, Will’s muscles seized up and his thrusts became shallow and rapid. The harsh panting turned into broken moans and gasps. In the middle of a hitched groan, something that sounded like a pained “Emma” fell from his lips and his cock jerked inside Kurt. When it was over, Will loosened his death-grip and pried his fingers off of Kurt’s hips, then withdrew from him with another sigh.

Kurt stayed slumped against the wall for long enough to regain his breath, trying to ignore the soreness of his reddened arms and hands and the ache in his ass. When he could move again, he retrieved his shorts from the cement and pulled them on with a wince. He straightened up to face Will, taking a deep breath and tilting his chin up even as he watched him tie off the condom and eye it uncomfortably before reluctantly dropping it on the ground.

Will’s fingers, still slick with traces of lube, kept slipping off his zipper as he tried to do up his fly again. His growing embarrassment was obvious even through the dim light, the tiny clinks of the zipper falling back against itself not quite audible over the sudden burst of noise from inside the bar, but his huffed breaths were. Kurt just watched for a few moments, not feeling particularly inclined to help. Will bit his lip and stared down, then went to wipe his hands on his trouser legs.

This was getting pathetic, Kurt realized. He sighed heavily, rolled his eyes so hard he briefly worried he had pulled something, and took over. He fished a Kleenex out of a pocket and handed it to Will to wipe his hands, then reached down and efficiently did Will’s fly up himself. He couldn’t resist giving his crotch a sardonic pat as he pulled away.

“Better?” he asked, unable to keep the snide tone out of his voice.

“Thanks,” Will murmured, not meeting his eyes. He looked drained in the wake of his orgasm. Any spark that had flickered in his earlier irritation was gone, and now he just looked tired and old. The neon light from around some corner gave a last sharp buzz and died out.

Light leaked out around the edges of the bar’s back door and window, distant streetlamps sent a glow creeping to the edge of the alley, but in the shadowy space between the dive bar and the dead theater, Kurt stared at Will and had to struggle to make out his features in the dark.

He wondered if this was what Finn would look like someday if he never left Lima.

“How much?” Will asked eventually, reaching into his pocket.

Kurt gave him a long look, gauging the weariness in his stance and creeping guilt in his eyes. “One-fifty, normally,” he replied, voice cool and bored, professionally cold with a hint of disdain. “I’ll give you a discount to seventy-five, though, since you evidently weren’t satisfied.”

Will pulled a few bills out of his pocket and handed them awkwardly over. “No, it wasn’t – You were fine, I just had a bad day. Not your fault.” He took a shaky breath and watched Kurt raise an eyebrow and pocket the hundred and fifty dollars. “Sorry,” he added, running a hand over his face.

Kurt softened enough to give him a small smile. “I assumed as much.” The smile turned into a teasing smirk as he continued, “I mean, no one’s ever complained before.”

Will huffed a weak laugh and they stood there looking at each other in the gloom.

Kurt knew he should leave, but normally he waited for his trick to go first. It seemed polite and probably safer. Will wasn’t moving yet, though, so after an awkward minute he quietly ventured, “’Emma’ isn’t your wife’s name, is it?”

The man who had been his teacher once stared at him for a moment longer before shaking his head ‘no.’ Kurt hesitated, thinking of a stupidly cheerful smile and far too much zeal and embarrassingly deep faith in a handful of loser kids – though apparently not enough in the end. He sighed. Then he broke from the script, stepping forward and leaning up to press a chaste kiss on Will’s cheek. There was stubble under his lips, more uneven than he remembered it being a year ago. Will tensed in surprise, but Kurt pulled back and pasted on a bright smile.

“You know how to contact me. Do yourself a favor and send me a line _before_ you have another bad day, alright? Satisfaction or not,” he quirked an eyebrow but smiled anyway, “return customers get a special price.”

Will blinked at him a few times but then relaxed and nodded shortly.

Kurt watched him go, glancing back only once before opening the bar’s back door and letting light flood into the alley. And then he disappeared into the harsh glow and the door closed and it was just Kurt in the darkness with the smell of alcohol and semen and sweat. A song came on from inside the bar and a handful of drunken patrons started singing along. Kurt didn’t hear Will among them.

When someone stopped the song a few bars in and started a new one, Kurt turned and walked out of the alley. He really wasn’t in the mood for Journey.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been an awful day. Will seemed to be having a lot of those lately.

The office had been hell; a mortifying meeting with his boss, a terrible packed lunch for which he only had himself to blame, and the usual mind-numbing boredom had come together to make it even worse than normal. He’d had to forcibly remind himself of the mortgage on the new house, the need to provide for his beautiful baby daughter to prevent himself from quitting right then and there. Even with that reminder of why he had taken this job in the first place, the headache he always got from the buzzing of fluorescent lights persisted well after he’d left.

As he rested his head against the steering wheel of his old, beat-up car in the parking lot, Will took a few deep breaths and reflected that the worst part of the day wasn’t the boredom, or even the headache, but the fact that Terri had taken their daughter to her sister’s house for the evening and probably would keep her there overnight. His fingers gripped the rubber tighter and he closed his eyes, the pounding in his temples intensifying. It wasn’t that Terri was proving to be a bad mother – she was thankfully turning out to be competent at it, if slightly more obsessive than Will thought was healthy. But Will found himself barely involved in his daughter’s life.

Hell, he hadn’t even been there when she was born.

Will sighed and wearily turned the key, following the same route home he used every day for the last year. A school bus passed going the other way just as he turned into his driveway, churning up a cloud of sparkling dust in its wake, and he idly remembered that it would be one of the late busses. It wasn’t too far into the school year, but it seemed that the clubs had already started up. He wondered if the Glee club had ever found a replacement for him. He wondered if Emma had started dating Ken Tanaka yet.

Early evening sunlight pounded down on him as he heaved himself out of the car and trudged into the house. He mechanically toed off his shoes at the door, not wanting to give Terri ammunition in her new war against dirt – she had never cared much before, but with the baby she had become almost as cleanliness-obsessed as- Will pulled the blinds on the front windows, cutting off the streaming golden light and leaving the house cool and dim. He located the fridge and pulled out a bottle of beer, settling himself at the kitchen counter to drink it before even bothering to take off his suit jacket.

When it was half empty and a tiny bit of the day’s stress had melted away, some tension trickling out of his shoulders and neck, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and flipped it open. The cold blue light from the screen seemed overly bright as he scrolled through the recent calls made. He stared at it, rolling the neck of the bottle between the fingers of his other hand thoughtfully.

He shouldn’t.

He was well aware that he was damning himself every time he dialed the number he’d gotten from the ad – only three times so far, but that was bad enough. From what he’d been able to make out in the dim light behind the bar, the rentboy was fairly young, and that should have been enough to put him off even without the adultery aspect. Somehow, though, he was never able to maintain the guilt for cheating on Terri – and it wasn’t really cheating when it came down to it, was it, since it was purely physical and Terri hadn’t let him touch her in almost a year. First it had been the pregnancy, and now she was too embarrassed about her body after the birth, no matter how many times he tried to tell her she still looked as slender as before she had the kid. The pregnancy had almost no impact on her figure – not that he would know for sure, she hadn’t been naked in front of him since the first month. She had as much as implied that he should seek out a professional a handful of times, emphasizing that she would only ruin anyone he had an _emotional_ affair with.

He’d tried with women first. It had been awkward and mortifying each time and those attempts were never worth it; all he could see with them was Terri or Emma, or both, and either way left him feeling raw. And then he had seen the discreet ad. He remembered the handful of times he’d experimented in college; it had been different enough that it didn’t feel like cheating, even then, and his tendency to grow attached too easily had never come up in those few encounters. Knowing this, the idea was absurdly tempting. Even after that, it had taken being sniped at by Terri all morning, a particularly grating day at the office, and coming home to find the baby screaming and Kendra visiting to make him reach for his cell phone and wallet.

He set the bottle down on the counter, immediately missing the cool glass under his fingers, and paused with his finger hovering over the buttons. He wasn’t about to meet the rentboy in the alley for a fourth time. It made him feel like even more of a cliché than he was already turning into (disappointed dreamer-turned-accountant with a shrewish wife, meeting whores for anonymous sex behind bars – now all he needed was the girl with her head in the clouds to show him that life was worth living – but no, he wasn’t going down that road again).

He wasn’t sure how this was supposed to work, really. If not the alley, he assumed it meant going to a motel or inviting the rentboy into his house. The owner of the only pay-by-the-hour motel in town had been a regular at Sheets ‘n’ Things and knew Terri too well for that to be an option, so he would have to bring this stranger, technically a criminal (although the thought made him snort derisively), to his home. That would be odd, at best. Will would have to have sex with him on the couch he and Terri shopped for together, or against the wall with the wallpaper Terri had picked, or on his and Terri’s wedding bed, or – he felt instantly guilty when he realized that each successive thought sent a shiver of arousal through him.

The guilt wasn’t enough to keep him from punching in the number, though, and leaving a message despite the letdown when it went to voicemail.

The return call came twenty minutes later as he was heating a plate of leftovers in the microwave. He hesitated before answering, but the conversation went smoothly. The rentboy was cool and professional, apologetic about the delay in contacting him, unruffled by the change in location. Will couldn’t help throwing in a last plea to be careful when arriving, and the rentboy assured him that he would be discreet, unable to completely hide the amusement in his voice. Will sighed when they finished making arrangements and hung up. He had hit the point in his life where he got laughed at by prostitutes. Wonderful.

With an hour to kill before the rentboy showed up, Will ate his dinner in front of the television, mindlessly flipping through channels while planning out what he’d make for dinner for the week. Terri was on maternity leave still, but she didn’t like to leave the baby alone while she cooked and absolutely refused to have her in the kitchen when anyone was using the stove, so it was Will’s job until the baby was old enough for Terri to trust him alone with her.

He was trying vainly to find some interest in the local news when the chime of the doorbell echoed through the house (the insane cheerleading coach from the high school had a segment and it was terrifying and only the second thing to make him feel good about quitting – the first had been the glow in Terri’s eyes when they were able to bring their daughter into their new home).

The rentboy was waiting patiently on the front step when Will opened the door. Despite the oversized sunglasses covering much of his face, he looked even younger than Will had thought when illuminated by natural light. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?” he asked, a smirk pulling up the corner of his full lips as he seemed to notice Will’s hesitation. ‘Last chance,’ Will’s rational side reminded him, as it had in the mouth of a seedy alley three times before. But then he remembered the way Terri had rolled away from his touch in bed the previous night, wearing thick pajamas even in late summer, apologizing evasively and chiding him in the same breath for wanting her time when she was stretched so thin already with the baby. His grip on the doorknob tightened. He nodded decisively at the rentboy and swung the door open wider, allowing him to slip inside, then closed the door firmly, shutting out the vivid sunset glow.

“Nice place,” the rentboy said, casting an appraising eye over the grand foyer through the dim light. He glanced down at the pairs of shoes lined up neatly by the door and contentiously slipped off his own, nudging them into place beside Will’s, before pulling off his sunglasses and sliding into Will’s personal space in a smooth movement. “Well?” he prompted, a hand ghosting up to rest against Will’s chest.

Will faltered. He hadn’t exactly planned beyond this. “Upstairs,” he said after a moment. The rentboy nodded and drew back enough to let Will lead the way up the stairs to the master bedroom. Will caught him looking thoughtfully at the empty nursery as they passed it, but neither one said anything.

“Um.” Will paused at the doorway to the bedroom. It wasn’t as if the rentboy would leave in a huff because he said the wrong thing; honestly, Will thought, that part was a nice change. “What’s your name?” he asked awkwardly. Calling him ‘you’ was starting to feel rude after the third time having sex. He glanced over his shoulder at the rentboy in time to catch an unreadable expression just before it was covered by a teasing smile.

“Hm,” the rentboy hummed instead of answering, leaning in and brushing a speck of lint off Will’s shoulder, his hand lingering longer than was necessary. He was close enough that his breath brushed the side of Will’s neck and it sent a trickle of warmth through him. “Asking my name, wanting to fuck me on a bed… You need to be careful, Will; I’ll be expecting flowers and chocolates next.” Will blinked and turned to look sharply at the rentboy, whose hands were now drifting down to relieve him of his jacket. “You’re wrinkling this,” he said airily, by way of explanation as he slid it off Will’s unresisting shoulders and hung it neatly over the back of the nearest chair.

“You know my name?” Will asked, his train of thought derailed by both the oddness and the loss of proximity.

The rentboy heaved a sigh. “It was on the mailbox,” he explained patiently. “And you don’t look much like a ‘Terri Schuester,’ so by process of elimination…” He shrugged.

Will felt his shoulders tense up at the reminder, the languid arousal that had been creeping up on him in danger of dissipating. “Don’t mention her,” he warned quietly. It was too late for second thoughts, and though they weren’t coming as easily as they really should be in the room he shared with his wife, he would still rather not be reminded.

The rentboy’s expression didn’t change, but he nodded. “That’s fine.” He stepped forward, nearly chest-to-chest with Will again, and wrapped Will’s loosened tie around one hand while the other drifted down to lightly cup the bulge in Will’s slacks. “So, I assume you want to take it slower today?” he asked casually, matter-of-fact tone contrasting strangely with the way his fingers were intimately stroking and teasing.

Will swallowed and nodded, pushing him away slightly. The rentboy let the tie unwind from his grasp with an unconcerned shrug. “Just – get undressed, first.” Will had been slightly thrown off from the start by the rentboy’s outfit today, and he preferred not to have that distraction – clothes weren’t something he paid much attention to, but unlike the skintight shirt and shorts of the past two meetings, today it was a little more eccentric, if less obviously hooker-wear. If the rentboy’s idea of ‘discreet’ was a red ruffled button-up, Will had no desire to know what indiscretion would have looked like. Something tugged at his mind for a second, a half-formed memory or impression, but it dissipated into nothingness as the shirt was unbuttoned and shrugged off, revealing pale skin, and was followed to the floor by a pair of jeans.

The rentboy stepped out of the jeans pooled on the carpet, unselfconsciously naked, and helped Will undo the buttons on his own shirt. While Will’s hands dropped to fumble with his belt buckle, he bent his head and pressed his lips to Will’s chest, trailing a line of hot kisses down his sternum before dropping to his knees and taking advantage of Will’s success with the belt to open his fly.

“Wait.” Will tugged his head away and was met with a mildly affronted look. “Bed,” he managed to order, overcoming the temptation to let the rentboy suck him off then and there. He was feeling frustrated, yes, but not nearly so much as the first time or even the second, so he wasn’t in the mood for something quick and dirty. The rentboy complied and gingerly sat on the edge of the bed, the light of the sunset slanting through the window to illuminate him like a spotlight. Will pulled his open shirt off and was still in the process of taking off his slacks when he joined him, laying back and tugging them both so that they were laying on the bed properly.

Will pulled the rentboy’s head back up when he began kissing his way down Will’s torso again, and shook his head. “Just touch me for a bit, okay?” he said. He hummed slightly as the rentboy acquiesced, a smooth hand drifting under the waistband of his boxers and wrapping around his half-hard cock.

Will allowed himself to lie back as his boxers were slid down and drifted in the sensation, firm, practiced strokes growing easier once he passed the rentboy a bottle of lubricant, a hot mouth tracing patterns across his chest and neck. The hand on his cock slowed when he began to shudder, the pressure lessening.

“Do you want me to keep going?” the high voice murmured from just below his ear.

Will shook his head. Most of the tension from the day had already left his body, and he could feel his headache abating. He brought a hand up to tangle it in absurdly soft hair and used it to urge the rentboy’s head downward. “Wouldn’t mind feeling your mouth again,” he admitted.

The rentboy allowed himself to be pushed down and readjusted himself so that he was awkwardly settled between Will’s legs, propping his upper body up so that he could lean down and gently wipe as much lube off Will’s erection as possible. Will hissed at the sensation and got a small lick of apology.

“I can’t stay all night,” the rentboy reminded him as he wrapped a hand around the base of his cock to steady it. “I have to be somewhere at eight.” Will nodded distractedly, but then threw his head back and moaned as the rentboy swallowed him down in one movement.

He hadn’t had the time or inclination to really appreciate the rentboy’s talent before, but his experience had clearly paid off. Will had to fist his hands in the comforter to avoid grabbing his head and just fucking his mouth again. Blowjobs had never been Terri’s thing, so as a hand cupped his balls and began to gently fondle them, he decided to wring every possible drop of pleasure out of the moment. It wasn’t difficult.

His legs were beginning to shake, arousal winding tighter in his gut, and it felt too good to be embarrassed by the unmanly whine that escaped his lips when the rentboy pulled his mouth off of him, replacing it with a hand. He showed no other signs of moving away, though, so Will didn’t immediately protest as he would have liked.

“Do you want to finish like this?” the rentboy was asking, and it took Will a second to regain enough coherence to answer.

“Yeah, that’d be – that’d be great,” he gasped.

He found himself groaning deep and uncontrolled as the wet heat surrounded his cock again, suction increasing as the rentboy picked up his pace until Will was coming, spilling into his mouth with a hoarse cry. He pulled back and swallowed after a few last light sucks on the sensitized flesh, and Will had to bite back a whimper of protest when the cool air hit him.

The rentboy didn’t move right away, slumping down and using Will’s thigh as a pillow, presumably taking the moment to rest his aching neck.

“That was… very good,” Will said into the sunset-tinged silence.

He watched idly as a mote of dust drifted past the window, momentarily flaming gold as it caught the last of the day’s sunbeams.

“Mm,” the rentboy hummed. A few stubborn late-season cicadas buzzed in the tree outside, singing the sun down. He ran his fingertips along Will’s hip and laughed quietly as if struck by something, then murmured against his thigh, “Si de pronto me olvidas no me busques, que ya te habré olvidado… Si consideras largo y loco el viento de banderas que pasa por mi vida y te decides… te decides…” He laughed again, dryly. “Ironically enough, I’ve forgotten the rest.”

“Neruda,” Will murmured, surprised. “Hablas español?”

“No con soltura,” was the response, less sure in pronunciation than the poetry had been. “I just liked the poem. I thought it sounded musical.”

Will smiled and let his hand fall down to card through the rentboy’s hair. He felt the smaller body stiffen for a second before cautiously relaxing into the touch. “Pablo Neruda,” he repeated thoughtfully. He smiled wistfully at a sudden memory, feeling pleasantly languid in the wake of his orgasm. “I used to teach Spanish, you know. For high school.” The rentboy hummed mildly in response. “I tried to do an exercise with the sophomores every year, get them to translate a Neruda poem. It was too hard for most of them, but I really think it opened them up to the possibilities of the language.” He laughed and ran his free hand through his own hair, still lazily petting that of the boy resting on his leg. “I had to stop just before I left the job, though; there was one boy who was always disruptive, and, well… It wasn’t that his translation was wrong, exactly, it’s just that I’m pretty sure Neruda was never that blunt. Or crude. Someone complained to the principal and I wouldn’t have been allowed to use that exercise again, even if I’d stayed.” The rentboy stifled a snort of laughter against his leg and Will chuckled again in response. Noah Puckerman, he remembered, that was the kid’s name – Finn Hudson’s best friend, although they were thankfully nothing alike in terms of personality.

He allowed himself to succumb to the temptation of nostalgia for a moment. He wondered how Finn was doing after leaving New Directions when Will did. It was a shame that the boy was wasting his musical talent; with him and a few more members, they could have taken on anything if Will had been able to stay. He wondered if Rachel Berry was still running the club. If she was, he hoped for her sake that she learned to tone things down before the others mutinied. Something tugged at his mind again and he frowned, staring unfocused at the ceiling, trying to isolate the thought before it slipped away.

The body against his legs shifted slightly, though, and he lost the thought again. He sighed and ruffled the soft hair before smoothing it back down. The rentboy began tracing his fingertips over Will’s abs, making idle swirling patterns and spirals, lines of goosebumps prickling Will’s skin in their wake.

Will had almost forgotten how nice it felt to just lie with someone.

“I never did get your name,” he said absently after few quiet minutes of watching the light bleed red and fade to dusk.

He could feel the rentboy’s shrug, saw the pale shoulder moving in the almost-dark. The hand on his stomach drifted down to his cock again, feathery teasing touches that sent licks of reawakened arousal up his spine. “That’s sort of personal,” was the bland response.

Will frowned, trying not to be distracted by the light strokes that were pleasantly teasing him towards hardness again. “This whole thing is sort of personal.”

The hand stilled on him for a second, and Will bucked his hips slightly to urge him to continue. It started again, and the rentboy sighed and said tightly, “You need to understand, it’s a safety thing as well. If something goes wrong, you won’t be the one getting arrested.”

“Sorry.” Will ruffled the rentboy’s hair again in what he hoped was an apologetic gesture. “If it helps,” he tried to joke, “I promise not to get you sent to prison.”

“Oh, it wouldn’t be prison,” the rentboy reassured him absentmindedly, pressing his lips against what he could reach of Will’s inner thigh. “It would probably just be counseling or something, but that would be bad enough.”

Will bit his lip as he processed that. His thoughts were difficult to organize at the moment through the haze of arousal, but an earlier prickle of guilt made itself known and he had to ask, “You would be – hypothetically, if something went wrong, I mean – you’d be tried as an adult, right?” The rentboy’s hand stopped moving and Will had his answer. He struggled to swallow. “How old are you?”

“Don’t freak out on me, I’m legal,” the rentboy said, his voice quieter than ever.

“’Legal’ meaning, what, sixteen? Seventeen?” The blood was draining from Will’s face and his eyebrows drew together. He sat up, disturbed now, rather than aroused at the sight of the boy’s head still resting in his lap, face stubbornly turned away from him. “Shit, are you still in high school?”

The rentboy wasn’t meeting his eyes. “It doesn’t make a difference,” he said flatly. “I need to leave soon, can you just pay me so I can go?”

Will could feel the rentboy beginning to pull back, getting ready to bolt, so he cupped his chin with one hand and forced him up to face him, holding him firmly in place. The other hand fumbled behind him for the bedside lamp’s switch. Illumination flooded into the dim twilight and he stared at the pale features twisted in apprehension.

“Oh my God.”

The earlier fuzzy memories flooded back, mocking him with their new clarity.

“Oh my God.”

‘Mr. Cellophane’ in a ludicrous falsetto, prissy manners and witty put-downs. A boy in the back of a classroom, thinking that Will hadn’t noticed the fashion magazine tucked into his textbook. “Fuck!”

Will wasn’t aware that his fingers were tightening their grip on the boy’s jaw until he took his hand off Will’s cock (oh God) to knock his hand away.

“I need to go,” Kurt said, already scrambling backward off the bed, lips pressed into a tight, trembling line. As he bent to grab his jeans and tug them on, Will saw fading bruises on his hips (like the ones he had put there at least twice), dark against pale skin even in the low light, and felt even more ill.

“Oh my God,” Will repeated helplessly, dropping his head into his hands. He’d had sex with one of his students. He had fucked the kid – still just a kid, one of _his_ kids – in an alley. Roughly. He’d – shit.

Kurt already had his jeans on and was in the process of buttoning up his shirt – Will knew now why it had struck him as odd before, it was much closer to what he’d seen the boy wearing at school, not like whatever he put on to meet men behind a bar and let them-

“Wait,” he managed, throwing out an arm and catching Kurt by the wrist before he could flee.

Kurt turned to look at him, calm dropping over his bloodless features like a mask. Will pulled a pillow into his lap to cover himself, feeling absurdly awkward at being naked, even though the boy had just had his mouth around him. “Why would you – how did you even-“ He shook his head helplessly, unable to organize his thoughts enough to get out a proper question.

Kurt sighed and gently removed Will’s hand from his wrist. He perched on the edge of the mattress again, leaving a few feet of space between them. “It’s not as big a deal as you think. No one’s hurting me, and I’m being careful. I’m not your concern anymore, Will. We can both forget about this and move on.”

The use of his first name hit him like the sting of cold water. Before, he’d been ‘Mr. Schue;’ he could hazily remember the name falling from those lips, which were currently still red from sucking him off (shit). “You’re my student,” he said, his voice strangled. “You were one of my students, and this isn’t _right_.”

He wasn’t looking directly at Kurt, but he could see him extravagantly rolling his eyes in his peripheral vision. “Maybe not, but I haven’t been your student for a year. You’re not a teacher. It’s no different than if we were strangers by now.”

“That’s not-“ Will broke off and shook his head. He had too many questions, wasn’t sure he was ready for the answers. All the same, he forced out, “Why are you doing this?”

Kurt shifted, uncrossed and recrossed his legs. “It’s really not a big deal,” he said, then abruptly continued, “Would you like it if I brought your pants over? You might be more comfortable if you were wearing them.”

Will clutched the pillow tighter to his lap and nodded, still not ready to look him in the eye. The mattress lifted slightly as Kurt rose and retrieved the slacks and boxers from where they’d been discarded, and then there was a rustle of fabric as they were dangled pointedly in front of Will’s face. He accepted them and stood, still clutching the pillow to himself. “Uh, could you turn around while I…” he made a vague gesture with the hand holding the slacks.

Kurt rolled his eyes again and Will wondered why he hadn’t run yet. “Please, it’s been up my ass three times now, I’m quite familiar with what your dick looks like.”

Will’s face must have reflected the distress brought on by that unsubtle reminder, because Kurt acquiesced after all, crossing his arms and turning his back on Will after one last unimpressed look.

“If it’s any help,” Kurt said consolingly, keeping his back to Will as he hurriedly slipped back into his boxers and pants, “it could have been worse.”

“How?” Will asked, his voice coming out strangled and disbelieving. He did up his fly with shaking hands just as Kurt saw fit to turn back around.

Kurt smiled reassuringly upon seeing that he wasn’t naked anymore and shrugged casually. “You could have still been a teacher at McKinley. The Tanaka Debacle of August was a thousand times more awkward than this, I promise.”

Will felt his jaw drop. “Ken? Ken Tanaka paid you to – I thought that he and Emma – Miss Pillsbury, I mean-“

“Oh, they are,” Kurt said airily, waving it off, “but apparently his brother thought he needed to meet someone who wouldn’t have the vapors every time he approached sans Hazmat suit. Of course when we met, he nearly had a coronary – if there’s a poster child for congestive heart failure risk in Lima, it’s that man, I swear.”

Will swallowed. This was too much all at once. Emma. Ken was cheating on Emma. His throat felt like he had been breathing sawdust; anger and disbelief making it hard to breathe. “Did you sleep with him?”

Kurt looked at him, startled by the sudden roughness in Will’s voice. “Of course not,” he said, blinking. His posture was suddenly guarded, and Will remembered the way the boy had looked at him after the first time. “Like I said, he recognized me immediately and freaked out. I don’t think he would have gone through with it, anyway; he seemed relieved when I offered to blackmail him instead of having sex.”

Anger derailed by the absurdity of the last part, Will sputtered, “Wait, hold on – blackmail?”

“Mm-hm.” Kurt smiled dreamily. “Azimio, Karofsky, and Puckerman have been running a lot of extra laps lately and I haven’t had to go to a gym class since.”

Will blinked, then gave his head a little shake to clear it. Some things, it seemed, he was better off not knowing. “Is he – has he married Emma yet?” he asked hesitantly, steeling himself for the answer. It shouldn’t concern him either way, and it didn’t, really, it was just that Emma had been his friend – a good friend – and he was interested in her welfare, now that he finally had someone he could ask about it, even if the circumstances were a bit odd. That was all.

“I’m not sure,” Kurt confessed, still looking amused. “They drive home separately and Ms. Pillsbury hasn’t changed her name, but I saw them out once and they were wearing rings. The rumor around school is that they are.”

Will sank down to sit at the edge of the bed again, resting his elbows on his knees and clenching his jaw tightly at the news. “Oh,” he said. He was impressed that he managed to keep the (utterly inappropriate) disappointment out of his voice.

Maybe he hadn’t fully managed it, though, because Kurt was suddenly peering at him through the lamplight with a sympathetic expression. “The first time we met,” he began softly, “you said ‘Emma’ when you came. You meant Ms. Pillsbury, didn’t you?”

Will flushed, both at the reminder of the encounter and at what it implied. He lifted one shoulder listlessly before letting it drop; hopefully the half-shrug would be enough answer. He didn’t want to say some things aloud, not in the bedroom he shared with his wife.

“I should have been insulted by that,” Kurt said, an eyebrow lifted wryly. All the same, he kept pressing, “How long? Have you even seen her since you quit?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Will said too quickly. He sighed and ducked his head, running both hands through his curls. “Nothing ever happened,” he admitted after a long second of quiet. “It couldn’t have, anyway. I was married then and have a child now, in addition.” He let out a short bitter laugh, letting out words that he shouldn’t have even entertained as thoughts. “Have you ever wanted something? Wanted it so badly, even though you could never have it?” Kurt’s expression softened slightly and he nodded, presumably for Will to continue. Will smiled sadly and corrected himself, “Well, that’s not exactly true, which is the worst part. I could have had her – it, I mean. It. Right.” He took a deep breath. “I could have had it anytime I wanted, and I did want it, more than anything, but – I couldn’t. It would have been wrong, even if it felt right at the time.”

The room was quiet and dark outside the pool of light by the bed, and Will nearly jumped when a hand landed tentatively on his shoulder. He looked over in surprise and saw Kurt sitting closer than before and giving him a sober, uncharacteristically soft look. The hand resting on his shoulder squeezed gently and Will tried to smile at him. He was certain he shouldn’t be unloading his problems on Kurt, of all people, but there was sympathy there and a genuine attempt to listen, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d even gotten that much. “If it helps,” Kurt said quietly, eyes flicking away from Will and giving his shoulder one last comforting squeeze before withdrawing, “when you do get what you wanted, it’s not always worth it.”

Will frowned and was about to say something, but Kurt got to his feet with a soft creak of the bedsprings and nodded at the number on the digital clock, blinking red in the dimness. “It’s almost eight. I need to go.”

“Where are you going?” Will asked before he could stop himself.

Kurt shrugged as he did up the last few buttons on his shirt. “Does it matter?” Will could see the softness that had been in his eyes being shuttered away as Kurt turned to Terri’s mirror and meticulously finger-combed his hair back into place, smoothing his features into bland regularity just as easily.

By the time Kurt raised an eyebrow and made eye contact with Will in the mirror, he looked exactly as he had when he walked in, cool and professional. Will felt the stab of a disappointment so sharp it nearly made him sick. “You should tell your wife to stop using that brand of hairspray,” Kurt said over his shoulder, indicating a can by tapping it lightly. “It’s going to fry her hair if she uses it with a blowdryer.” He didn’t make a move to leave yet, though, and Will knew why as Kurt’s glance slid pointedly over to where Will’s wallet rested on the nightstand.

“Are you going to meet with a – a client, or are you going straight home?” Will felt like he was picking at a scab. He didn’t want to know the answer, not outside of a creeping sense of morbid curiosity, but he couldn’t in all conscience just let Kurt, his old student, walk back out the door without trying something.

Kurt finally turned to face him again, rather than meeting his eyes through the mirror. His arms were crossed over his chest and his eyebrow was arched to where it nearly merged with his hairline. He surveyed Will for a long minute. “You’re trying to ‘save’ me, aren’t you?” He sounded bored, but the twitch of his lips was midway between contemptuous and amused.

Will found himself frowning. “You’re seventeen, Kurt. I know this can’t be what you wanted for yourself.”

“Maybe not this, specifically,” Kurt shrugged. The lamplight softly illuminated his impassive features. He didn’t look like he cared, but Will knew that deep down, he had to. He had to. Kurt cut into his thoughts with, “It’s a means to that end, though, so I’d rather you spared me the speech.” He looked at Will’s wallet again, more pointedly this time.

“Do your parents know?” Will asked insistently. If he could get any reaction at all – maybe he could find a chink in the boy’s armor. Perhaps he wasn’t teaching anymore, but getting kids on the right track was something he’d always been able to do well, something he needed to do. It was something Kurt needed him to do.

“Does your _wife_ know?” Kurt shot back snidely. “I assume you made sure she’d be out of the house tonight, but the sooner you pay me, the sooner I can leave. I think we would both rather she didn’t find me here if she decides that she forgot something and comes back.”

“She isn’t-“ Will started to protest, then caught the smug look in Kurt’s eyes and realized that he’d been purposefully derailed. He pressed his lips tightly together and gave Kurt a hard look. “I could have Em – Miss Pillsbury call your parents.”

Kurt uncrossed his arms and rolled his eyes. Before Will could fully process the movement, Kurt had crossed the room and was dropping into his lap, straddling him with his arms loosely draped around Will’s neck. “You could do that,” Kurt agreed mildly, dipping his head to press an open-mouthed kiss against Will’s neck. Will stiffened and lifted his arms, halfway thinking of pushing Kurt off until the mouth on his neck did something particularly interesting and to his horror, he found his hands resting on Kurt’s back, instead, pulling him closer. Kurt pulled back and smiled brightly at him, rolling his hips into Will’s crotch and drawing a sharp breath from him. “But that would entail telling Emma all about what you’ve been up to lately, wouldn’t it?” He rolled his hips again, grinding down on Will through denim and suiting, and Will flushed as he realized he was getting hard again. From the smugness glittering in Kurt’s eyes, Will knew he wasn’t the only one who had noticed.

“Now,” Kurt said briskly after dropping one last kiss against the side of Will’s neck, not budging from his lap, “if you’re not going to want another round, you need to pay me so I can go.”

Will looked him in the eye, only inches separating them, but through the dim light it felt like miles. He didn’t remember the harshness in the angles of Kurt’s face from a year ago.

In a sudden flash of self-consciousness, he suspected that Kurt didn’t remember the deep lines now etched into Will’s own, the scattering of early gray hairs.

“Neither of us are where we want to be, are we?” he asked with a slow, humorless chuckle. He looked for a moment longer at the boy in his lap, studying his faux-flirtatious expression belied by guarded eyes, cast into Will’s shadow by proximity.

He wearily let go of Kurt to reach for his wallet.

“I don’t see why anyone would want to be in Lima if they don’t have to,” Kurt responded a minute too late for it to sound truly flippant, not moving from Will’s lap immediately when he was released. He waited until Will had handed him the small stack of bills before he tucked them into his pocket and slid off his lap, leaving nothing but shameful, lingering arousal and a rush of cold air in his wake.

He adjusted his cuffs carefully and gave Will a long, unreadable look before heading for the door. “One thing, though,” he said, pausing in the doorway with a tiny, sardonic smile. “William Schuester, you just openly identified with a teenage prostitute. Take a second to think about that.” And then he was gone, even the vibrant red of his shirt swallowed up by the gloom.


End file.
